


what a lovely way to burn

by firefeufuego



Series: i'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Beltane, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lana Del Rey would approve of this fic, Mutual Pining, Sex and flower crowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefeufuego/pseuds/firefeufuego
Summary: 'There’s something warm and aching and restless that’s been building inside Jyn since Cassian met her eyes in that first briefing a year ago. Something that crystallized on the sand of Scarif when he held her in his arms and made her a little less afraid to die and that now seems to fill her almost to bursting whenever she manages to make him smile. It fills her now, along with the other, baser longing to touch him and have him touch her and fuck him until they’re both mindless.'Jyn and Cassian are sent to the Chandrilan Fire Festival and things get heated.





	what a lovely way to burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skitzofreak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/gifts).



> This is a (much belated) Secret Santa gift for the inimitable skitzofreak, whose talent, charm and kindness cannot possibly be overstated. Thank you for enduring my yelling at you as I tried to finish this and I hope so much that you enjoy it.  
> The prompt was 'tradition/ritual' and so the Chandrilan Fire Festival is based almost entirely on the pagan spring festival of Beltane.

‘No, absolutely not.’

K2 remains unmoved, still brandishing the white dress in his outstretched hand. ‘It is traditional. If you do not wear it, you will look conspicuous. I am not sure if you have been told this Jyn Erso, but the aim of intelligence work is to not look conspicuous.’

Jyn grinds her teeth and restrains herself from starting yet another of their infamous sniping matches. K’s probably jealous that he can’t come on this particular mission, an Imperial droid at the Chandrilan Fire Festival would certainly classify as conspicuous.

K2 continues, his emotionless voice somehow managing to sound petulant, ‘I told Cassian that your pride was going to jeopardize the mission but he assured me that you were a professional.’

It’s not even a subtle attempt at manipulation but it still works. ‘Fine. Hand it over.’

The droid flings the dress at her head and Jyn has to remind herself for the millionth time that physically attacking him will only end up hurting her.

She holds the dress out in front of her to inspect it. Its saving grace is its simplicity, a knee-length shift in a soft, slightly scratchy fabric. It is, she supposes, relatively inoffensive.

‘Get out.’

‘Gladly.’ K2 snarks, always needing to have the last word, before loping out of the room.

The dress is radically unsuited to even the indoor temperatures of Hoth so she wraps herself in her blankets before taking off her clothes so that she can try it on. She’s down to her underwear when someone knocks on the door.

‘Jyn?’ Cassian’s muffled voice sounds through the thick door. She freezes. He says something else but she can’t make it out.

Knowing that whatever it is could be important, she tucks the blanket tighter around herself and opens the door. ‘What?’ She’s sharper than she means to be, her natural reaction to being caught off-guard.

Cassian’s eyes widen a little before his face settles back into its usual implacable expression. ‘K told me you were trying on the dress, I just wanted to make sure I got the hemline right.’

‘You can sew?’

He nods as if it should be obvious, which she supposes it should be. A spy needs to look like they belong in their disguises, which means clothes that fit perfectly. Still, the image of his long fingers working a needle is really more arresting to Jyn than it needs to be. She’s suddenly uncomfortably aware of the very little clothing she has on under the blanket.

She clears her throat. ‘I don’t have it on yet.’

His eyes track from her clothes on the floor and quickly back to her body. She watches his face, hoping for a hint of a blush, for any sign that he’s the least bit affected by her, but there’s nothing. His voice is smooth as he says, ‘Sorry, I interrupted. I can come back.’

Jyn shakes her head. ‘I’m not going to keep it on very long. Just turn around.’ He does so and Jyn drops the blanket, shoves herself into the dress and wraps herself up again as if the base were under attack. ‘Okay.’

Cassian comes towards her then gets down on his knees. Her breath hitches and her thighs clench for a moment but he doesn’t seem to notice, just parts the blanket so he can see the bottom of the dress. ‘It’s a bit too long. I got it from Mon Mothma and I didn’t realise I’d have to take so much off.’ He looks up at her with a small smirk and Jyn glares at him.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieves a small pincushion, the pins neatly and evenly spaced across its surface. He gestures to the hem and asks, ‘Can I?’

She nods and he sets to work folding the fabric up until it sits at the right place just above her knee and then pinning it in place. Jyn holds her breath and fixes her gaze on the far wall. He’s not even really touching her but the intimacy still does something strange to her.

There’s something warm and aching and restless that’s been building inside Jyn since Cassian met her eyes in that first briefing a year ago. Something that crystallized on the sand of Scarif when he held her in his arms and made her a little less afraid to die and that now seems to fill her almost to bursting whenever she manages to make him smile. It fills her now, along with the other, baser longing to touch him and have him touch her and fuck him until they’re both mindless.

She contains it, as she always does, because she can never be sure that he feels it too. There have been moments, when his mask drops and his eyes darken, when a giddy, girlish hope whispers that it’s possible, but they’re too few and far between for Jyn’s skittish and fragile heart. Whenever that hope flares, it’s followed by the wary voice that’s kept her alive for all these years, warning her not to set herself up for another rejection or abandonment, that what they have now is more than she could ever have dreamed for herself before and that she would be a fool to risk it.

Cassian finishes and rises to his feet. ‘Be careful of the pins when you take it off.’

She nods. ‘Thanks. Just give me a minute and we can go to dinner.’

He steps outside, the door sliding shut after him, and Jyn exhales heavily.

Her attention turns back to the dress. There are no mirrors in the room so she has no idea what she looks like but it’s comfortable enough and the newly shortened hem means she can run and fight in it if she needs to. She gingerly lifts it over her head then dresses and heads out to meet Cassian. Outside the close atmosphere of her room, the tension that had gripped her eases and they chat easily about Bodhi’s latest exploits with Rogue Squadron, Baze’s complaints about having to deal with twice as many fools now that he and Chirrut are teaching Luke Skywalker, General Organa and Solo’s latest argument, everything, except the mission they’re leaving for in the morning.

\---

A week later, after a quick stop-over on Bespin to steal a luxury cruiser, they land on Chandrila. They’re here for the Fire Festival, which heralds the arrival of spring and new life. It’s an ancient custom but the technologically advanced Chandrilans still observe it seriously and sincerely. The Imperials however, use it as an opportunity to indulge their basest desires, taking the celebration of fertility and turning it into an excuse for the kind of debauchery that would make even a teenage boy blush. This function as a relief valve for repressed Imperial officers is probably why the Empire has deviated from its usual policy of suppressing local culture, that and the bone-deep nature of Chandrilan values and traditions, so strong that their seat of government still functions even under Imperial rule. Nevertheless, it’s not the festival itself that brings Jyn and Cassian tonight, but the officers, drunk out of their minds and inhibition-free, a veritable buffet of intelligence just waiting to be taken.

Jyn’s standing in the dressing room of her suite (which, what kind of person could possibly need a _suite_ of rooms on a ship?), a bottle of eye-wateringly expensive Corellian gin in hand. Unlike Cassian, she’s not very good at pretending to be loose and at ease, a key requisite for this mission, so she has to resort to a bit of method acting. In her other hand is the dress, expertly altered by Cassian and waiting for her to wear it. Setting the bottle on a nearby table right next to the stack of coasters, she pulls the dress over her head and turns to the wall-length mirror. She smoothes the fabric over her body then tilts her head and considers herself. She looks... _good_ , the dress hangs well on her frame, hinting at her curves, and her pale skin and dark hair, down around her shoulders for once, somehow makes the white brighter. Catching herself wondering what Cassian will think of it, she rolls her eyes, ashamed at how much she cares, how much she wants him to look at her and feel something of the breathless attraction she feels whenever he enters a room. She looks herself in the eyes, noticing the slight flush of her cheeks from thinking about him and grits her teeth. One night, she decides. She’ll allow herself one night for these feelings and then she’ll get rid of them for good.

She heads to the vanity and picks out a kohl pencil that probably cost more than all the ones she’s bought in her life combined. Lining her eyes with practised ease, she takes more care than usual because that’s whatever Imperial wife she’s impersonating tonight would do, or so she tells herself. Strapping a knife to her thigh and taking one last sip of gin for the road, she steps out into the main cabin, stopping short when she’s faced with a decidedly shirtless Cassian. He looks up from where he’s tying a red sash around his hips, hands going slack for a second before he regains his perfect fucking composure and finishes the knot.

Jyn bites her lip, mouth suddenly dry. The only other time she’s seen him without a shirt was when the medics were ripping it off him after Scarif. He looks much better now, body long and lean, muscles shifting in and out of relief as he moves. Her fingers itch to find out if the expanse of bare skin is as soft as it looks.

He’s smiling at her, which makes him impossibly even more attractive. ‘It suits you, the dress. You look good.’ There’s heat in his eyes that she’s only ever seen glimpses of. To have the full force of it directed at her now is enough to set her skin alight, every inch of it sensitive and aware of him.

The cynic in her reminds her that he’s probably just getting into character, but she lets herself take the compliment. She lifts her chin in her best impression of an Imperial lady and lets her eyes drop to his chest before dragging them up to meet his. ‘So do you.’

She doesn’t miss the way he swallows and the small victory is heady.

 

They make their way down to the open field in the middle of a village not far from the small city of Nayli. Most Chandrilan towns celebrate the festival but the festivities in this village are a well-known Imperial hotspot. For now, the field is relatively empty of tourists, most of whom skip out on the statelier opening ceremonies in favour of pregaming in the nearby city. So much the better, Jyn thinks, eager for a glimpse of what the festival was before it became an Imperial playground.

A young Chandrilan girl, skin painted completely white except for a black band across her eyes, hands them wreaths of flowers. Cassian accepts graciously and places Jyn’s gently on her head, his fingers grazing her skin as he brushes some rogue strands of hair off her face. It seems he actually is trying to kill her. Wanting to sell their cover, Jyn does the same for him, rising on her toes as he bends his head so that she can reach. It should look ridiculous but he wears it as unfairly well as he does everything else. The girl smiles widely at them before moving back to the centre of the field, joining the circle that’s forming around an enormous pile of wood and kindling. In front of that is a young woman in a rather spectacular dress, white with a large belt of flowers and intricate patterns embroidered on the full skirt. A man is reverently crowning her with a tall headdress, which she bears with a regality that would almost put Mon Mothma to shame.

Cassian’s soft voice sounds next to her ear, hot breath hitting her skin, ‘That’s the Queen of Spring, she’s the incarnation of The Goddess.’

Jyn masks her shiver with a curt, ‘Yes, I did in fact read the briefing book.’

He chuckles behind her and the feeling of it against her neck is enough to propel her forward towards the crowd.

The sky is aglow with gold and pink as the sun nears the horizon, bathing the scene in even more beauty. Someone’s given the Queen a wreath of leaves and she’s walking around the circle looking for her consort. She stops in front of a handsome young man and from the way he smiles at her as she tenderly places his crown on his head, Jyn guesses that they’re already a couple. He’s then surrounded by more people covered head to toe in white, the Queen’s White Warriors, who seem to take great pleasure in smearing green paint all his skin as the young man jokingly pleads with them not to get it in his eyes.

Cassian’s rejoined her and she turns and says smarmily, ‘That’s The Green Man, he’s the incarnation of the god Bel and together their union is the fount of all new life.’

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her, matching her tone, ‘Thank you Jyn, for taking the time to explain. I didn’t happen to know that and now I can properly appreciate this event.’

She rolls her eyes at him but finds it hard to stay annoyed when he looks carefree for the first time in months.

Once the man is painted, he joins hands with his partner and together they bind their hands with a ribbon, murmuring vows to each other with shyly delighted smiles on their faces. It’s the simplest, shortest wedding Jyn’s ever witnessed and she can’t help but think that it’s the ceremony she would want if she ever got married. She very determinedly avoids glancing at Cassian as she thinks this and she presses her nails into the palm of her hand to get rid of any fanciful imaginings of the two of them with their hands and hearts bound together. She can admit to herself, if only for tonight, that she wants him but anything more would be too much.

 

The sun has set now and every light in the village is extinguished, waiting for complete darkness before the ceremony can continue. The anticipation grows as a boy comes forth with a lit torch and hands it to the Queen. People chant and cheer as she approaches the pyre and a huge shout goes out when she lights it, the whole thing going up in flames almost instantly and casting the whole field in its amber light. Both the Queen and her new husband take fresh torches and light them from the bonfire, then head towards the darkened houses of the village. Chandrilans use electricity of course, but every house has a hearth at its heart, its flames renewed each year by the sacred fire of the festival. The crowd tracks the couple’s progress as each house lights up from within until the whole village forms a ring of lights around the field. She turns to Cassian with a smile to find him already looking at her. Her breath catches at the sight of him. He’s magnificent, with his sparkling, fathomless eyes and fire-gilded skin. _Okay, enough adjectives Jyn, get a hold of yourself._

Music starts up from somewhere, heavy drums and low pipes, and it seems to wash over the crowd like a drug, the lines of their bodies growing more relaxed. Kegs of some spiced drink made of honey are opened and cups of it are passed around. The ceremonious part of the evening has come to an end and the drunken Imperials should be on their way. Time to get to work.

 

Jyn hears them well before she sees them, waves of whoops and off-key singing washing over her. She sees a few shoulders slump and fists clench among the Chandrilans but they must be aware that these fools are one of the only things keeping their tradition legal. When they finally arrive, some seem to be attempting to follow the traditional dress code of white, green and red, with more or less accurate imitations of Chandrilan dresses, but most of them are garish parodies of sexuality. They've got as much skin on display as possible and are painted in gaudy colours that have nothing to do with the festival. One woman seems to have covered herself entirely in gold leaf, another man is wearing nothing but possibly the most ostentatious jewellery in the galaxy, even going so far as to put a literal diamond ring on his cock.

The Chandrilans have joined hands and started to dance around the fire, the steps slow but building with the music. The Queen and her partner are on opposite ends of the circle and at the climax of the dance, they meet and she draws him into the middle. There’s such an easy sensuality between them and Jyn can’t help the pang of envious admiration. The Imperials shove their way into the circle and loudly demand a faster song, then proceed to gyrate like they’re in a Coruscanti nightclub, hands running up and down intimate parts of themselves like the prospective partners watching need reminding of where they are. The locals move with unaffected grace, eyes closed and perfectly in time with the music, which almost demands to be danced to.

Cassian takes her hand and leads her towards them. ‘We look a bit suspicious just watching.’

Jyn doesn’t know if it’s dread or anticipation that fills her as they make their way amidst the crowd. None of the Imperials have attempted to learn the steps of the traditional dance, which means she and Cassian can’t either, something for which Jyn is ashamedly grateful.

Instead, Cassian whispers in her ear, ‘I have to hold you, is that okay?’ and draws her into his arms after she nods.

She’s a little dizzy at the sensual overload. He’s wearing a scent, as most Imperial men do, but its woody notes are undercut by the faint, distinctive scents of blaster oil and the Rebellion’s standard shampoo. His skin is absolutely as soft as it looks, smooth and scar-free after multiple bacta treatments, distinctive marks being unacceptable for a spy. Jyn’s glad of it, her dreams of him falling and the awful crack of his spine are vivid and violent enough without a present physical reminder.

She loses herself in the music, letting her limbs and hips go loose. Her flower crown flies off her head, quickly getting trampled in the crowd. One of his hands goes to her hair, brushing it out of her face and letting his fingertips drag over her scalp, and she moans loudly, grateful for the excuse of the mission to not have to bite it back for once. His hand tightens in her hair and triggers the sense memory of the only other time they’ve held each other, while waiting for death on Scarif. Her heart aches to sink into his arms for real, to hold him not for a mission or because they’re about to die but just because they both want to.

Cassian clears his throat and leans down. ‘You should probably touch me some more,’ He gives a wry grin and nods at the couple beside them who are less than an inch away from literal intercourse. ‘Just to blend in.’

She returns his smile and follows his lead, threading her fingers through the soft, thick hair  at the nape of his neck because it seems the safest place to put them. Touching him anywhere else, running her hands over the planes of his back, stroking his sharp cheekbones, wrapping herself around him so tightly there’s not a breath between them, seems too much like taking advantage given how badly she wants it. They dance for a while longer, waiting for the moment when their targets’ barriers are completely down but they’re still lucid enough to talk.

When it arrives, they part and search for their separate prey. In between dancing and the kind of groping that would usually result in broken wrists, Jyn smiles and listens as Imperials feed her secrets trying to impress her. An investor in Arakyd Industries informs her that the company has just received a massive order for Viper probe droids (which apparently paid for the woman’s dreamsilk dress). The details of the Empire’s power struggles spill from junior officers desperate just to drop names. Most satisfyingly, a lieutenant from the Executor describes Darth Vader’s demotion after the destruction of the weapons factory on Cymoon 1. Jyn makes a note to pass that on to Leia, knowing it will brighten her day.

All the while, she keeps Cassian in the corner of her eye, in the unlikely event that something should go wrong, and is blown away again by just how good at this he is. While she’s relying on her targets’ lust and self-importance, Cassian plies his with a charm so effective that they're all a second away to getting on their knees and begging to be allowed to tell him whatever he wants. With just a smile and a tilt of his head, he can wring a person of everything they know and leave them dazed and simpering as he walks away. Jyn can hardly blame them, when faced with the full magnetic force of his focus, what wouldn’t you say to impress him, to get him to stay, to keep him smiling? She’s just glad they fight on the same side.

Eventually, the flow of information ebbs as the Imperials grow impatient with their gloating courtship and start openly propositioning her, huffily leaving in search of an easier lay when she refuses. Giggling couples start retreating to the forest, their laughter turning to moans that seem to infuse the atmosphere with sex. Now off the job, Jyn heads to the keg of sweet alcohol, pouring herself a glass and drinking greedily. A few feet away is a pair of Chandrilan women, hands on each others’ faces and kissing with a tender passion that makes her heart clench even as her face grows hot.

 _Cassian would kiss like that_ , a beguiling voice whispers in her mind and the pang of longing is like a punch to the gut. She looks away, taking another deep drink from her cup.

Then, as if he can feel her desperate pining for him, Cassian appears next to her. ‘Hey.’ He brushes her arm and she wonders if he feels her tremble. ‘Did you meet anyone interesting?’

She turns to him, puts on her coquettish character, and a strokes his arm in return. ‘I did, but none as interesting as you, my darling.’

His lips twitch. ‘Good.’

They watch as the fire is banked, ready for the final ritual of the night. Chandrilan couples line up behind the Queen and her consort to jump over the fire to strengthen the bond between them. Once they’ve jumped, the latter are ceremoniously guided to their bower to consummate their marriage, both real and symbolic. All the other couples are met with cheers from the dwindling crowd before heading towards the forest themselves.

The field is quiet again for the first time in hours. Jyn’s on her second drink and can already feel it going to her head, suffusing her body with warmth and making her reckless. Her skin is tight and so acutely aware of how close Cassian is to her. Seeking a distraction, she watches the people now jumping the fire alone, marking their landing spots and competing against each other for the longest jump. Jyn remembers how Saw used to make her jump from rooftop to rooftop on Commenor and thinks she probably has a chance.

She drains her cup and hands it to Cassian before joining the line of fire jumpers. When it’s her turn, she takes a few steps back, breathes deeply, then sprints and leaps over the fire. She feels the flames scorch her legs for a brief moment before landing safely on the ground, well beyond the other markers. Heart pounding and adrenaline flooding her veins, she lets out a victorious whoop. It’s been so long since she’s used her strength for something other than violence or survival, she forgot how satisfying it is.

She meets Cassian’s eyes to find them burning and she makes her way over to him with that recklessness still coursing through her.

‘Very impressive.’ He couldn’t be further from the oily charm of the Imperials, his voice utterly earnest. For once, she can read his expression and it fills her with the dizzy hope that she might just captivate him like he does her.

The Jyn that still exists in those bunkers, that quakes at the idea of trusting someone with such a vulnerable part of herself, is screaming in protest, but the Jyn that has been Cassian’s partner for this past year, that has watched him trust and believe and come back for her, she’s starting to think she should at least give it a shot.

She swallows and tries to speak but finds her mouth still too dry, hands shaking like they haven’t since she was a child.

‘Jyn, are you alright?’ The concern in his voice reminds her that he does care for her, even if maybe it’s not in the way she’s asking him to now, and that gives her the strength to speak.

‘Can I kiss you?’ The words almost trip over themselves in her haste to get them out before she backs down.

The look on Cassian’s face is pure shock, as if it’s never even occurred to him that she might ask and of course it hasn’t, because if he were interested in that then he would have said so or done something and _fuck._ She needs to leave right now, humiliation and disappointment warring for which can sink heaviest in her stomach. She heads into the forest, hears Cassian following and so starts running, ashamedly hoping that his leg, still painful after his fall on Scarif, will stop him from catching her.

 

She runs fast enough that she can ignore the heavy pressure building behind her eyes, the cries of pleasure have mercifully stopped by now and she tries to imagine that there’s nothing else in the world but the sound of her own footsteps and measured breath. She succeeds to such an extent that she only notices the water once her feet are wet.

Looking up, she’s met with a sight so breathtakingly lovely she forgets her pain for a minute. All around the bank of the small lake and floating on pieces of wood on the water are hundred and hundreds of candles, their light rippling and reflected on the surface until the whole place is cast with a gentle, golden glow. They're there to bless the lake, a gesture of the deep respect and gratitude the Chandrilans have for their bountiful natural environment.

The light seems to call her and the cool water at her feet promises a clearer head, so she wades in until she’s shoulder high. She dives under and opens her eyes, marvelling at the rays of warm-orange that cut down through the inky black water. But as she rises again, she can’t help but think of how Cassian would love this, and her moment of respite is gone.

 _Force_. How could she have been so stupid? Her mind races through nightmare scenarios, that he’ll feel too uncomfortable around her to be her partner, that they’ll drift apart, that without him to watch out for her on base, she’ll get herself shipped off with the cannon fodder and without her to watch out for him off base, his luck will run out and he’ll die swallowing that awful little pill he keeps in his jacket.

 

 _No_. None of that is allowed to happen. Cassian will understand and Jyn, Jyn will get over him. Which should be easy now that she knows he’s definitely not interested. Even if a year of trying has only ended up with her falling deeper and deeper for him. Even if her body still aches and burns for him as if the past half hour never happened.

She groans, whether from frustration or frustrated desire she’s not sure. She lets herself drift up and float on the surface. The cool air bites at her skin, the water now warm in comparison. It laps at her jawbone and the skin just below her ear like a caress and it’s all too easy to imagine Cassian’s lips there instead.

What had she promised herself earlier? One last night of wanting him.

She slides her hand down her side, thumb drawing little circles on the jut of her hip bone as her stomach and chest clench and rise to keep her afloat. Slipping under her dress, her fingers trail shivery lines back up to her breast, where her nipple is peaked and tender from the mixture of arousal and cold. She teases herself a little, but it’s more than her yearning body can bear, a needy whine wrenching out of her. She gives in, cupping her breast and squeezing hard. Her mind replaces her hands with larger, slightly smoother ones, pictures his face open and adoring above her, murmuring hungry, sweet things in her ear as he touches her and begs her to touch him. The brush and graze of her wet dress over her other nipple draws a loud gasp and she brings her hand out from under it to move back to her breast, almost overwhelmed by how the extra layer at once soothes and sharpens the pleasure. She wonders how Cassian’s mouth would feel, suckling her through the fabric and the spasm of her clenching legs almost sends her under. Her skirt gets caught between her thighs and drags against her with almost painfully exquisite friction. She grinds against it, frenzied fantasies skipping through her brain: his hot mouth licking into her, the two of them entwined in each other, Cassian sinking into her, thick and warm and  _good_ , his head thrown back in pleasure beneath her, until finally, the crystal clear sound of his voice saying, wrecked and so heartfelt,

‘Jyn, I love you.’

She comes violently with a pained cry and tears pricking at her eyes. As soon as she comes back to herself, she drops down beneath the water, heartsick and ashamed for putting words into his mouth that don’t belong there.

 

She rises back to the surface to the sound of his actual voice, panicked and shaking as he shouts her name.

‘JYN!’

Guilt surges through her. She shouldn’t have left without saying anything. She thinks of how out of her mind with worry she'd be if he cried out like that alone surrounded by Imperials.

Her voice is a little hoarse as she says, ‘I’m here, I’m alright,’ and she hopes like hell that his worry keeps him from figuring out what she was doing. He rushes out of the trees and stops short at the sight of her, transfixed. She must look awful, makeup smeared and hair plastered to her face. She fights the urge to rub at her eyes self-consciously.

‘Jyn, I-’

She’s still not ready for whatever gentle letdown he has for her, her muscles still quaking with how hard she came for him and heart vulnerable from the realization of just how much it wants from him. ‘-You should probably go. I’m fine.’ She tries to sound brisk and unaffected but she can hear the bitter hurt colouring her words. She sighs, frustrated with herself. It’s not at all his fault if he doesn’t return her feelings and if she wants to (needs to) keep their partnership, she needs to respect that. ‘I’m...sorry. For before. I think I just drank a bit too much and the festival went to my head and I want you to know this doesn’t have to change anything between us.’ She meets his eyes in his beautiful, unreadable face. ‘You’re my closest friend Cassian, I can’t-I can’t lose you.’ That last verges uncomfortably on begging so she bites her tongue.

He’s silent for a moment, as if deliberating, and she’s on trial again, awaiting her sentence. When he speaks, his voice is warm but her heart sinks at his words, certain they’re a confirmation that he doesn’t want more from her. ‘You’re my closest friend too, Jyn and you’re right, nothing has to change.’ There’s a pause and she bows her head, determined to deal with the blow better than she did last time. Then he takes a deep breath and continues, ‘But I’ve wanted you to kiss me since Jedha.’

Jyn looks up so fast it strains her neck.

‘I should have told you as soon as you asked, or probably a lot earlier than that.’ He squares his shoulders and looks her straight in the eye. ‘I was afraid. I’m sorry.’

It feels like he’s struck a match and lit her up from the inside and she doesn’t even try to stop the smile from breaking on her face. ‘That’s okay. I’m sorry too.’

She’d endure a lot worse for the answering smile he gives her.

 

She starts to move out of the water and feels her dress cling to her, suddenly aware that it must be completely translucent. Her hands start towards her all but bare breasts but Cassian’s eyes are starving and scorching in equal measure so she lets herself be brazen.

When she gets close, she can feel the heat radiating off him and the pull of his body on hers is irresistable. The rush of joy that surges through her at the knowledge that she doesn’t have to fight it is enough to make her knees weak.

‘Can I touch you, Cassian?’

This time, his answer is swift and emphatic. _‘Yes_ , Jyn. _Please_.’

 _Fuck_. As she brings her hands up to explore all the smooth, bare skin she couldn’t before, she wonders if he knows just how devastating he is. She can’t think of a thing his low, honeyed voice could ask of her that she wouldn’t want to give.

Finally, when the anticipation is so great she can no longer bear it, she cups his face in her hands and brings his lips down to meet his. The first moments of the kiss are still, exploratory. His lips are velvet soft and he tastes of ash and honey. She has to keep her eyes open until she can be sure she’s not dreaming.

Then his mouth opens to her tongue and the world dissolves into white hot pleasure. He wraps his arms around her and she presses every inch of her body against his until the only thing separating them is her dress. She moans loudly at the feeling of him, the hard, lean muscles of his chest jumping and shivering against her skin. She’s nearly grateful that it took them this long to get here, if only so that she doesn’t have to bite her lips raw trying to stay silent as she would back on base. Cassian lets out his own hungry little sound in response and Jyn endeavours to find every single way she can of making him do it again.

Reluctantly, she breaks away from the kiss and appeases his plaintive moan by moving her lips to his neck, brushing them lightly up and down and making note of where he gasps or trembles. He does the same for her, mouthing at that sensitive place just below her ear and it feels even better than she imagined.

Something in Jyn snaps then and her hands go to the button of his pants, pausing as her eyes ask for consent.

Cassian, mouth swollen and breathing heavily, lets his eyes roam her face before sighing defeatedly and easing her hand off the button. ‘No.’

Something sick twists in her stomach. He didn’t mean it. He felt bad and was just placating her but now he can’t stand her touch any longer. She steps back with a violent jolt and wonders how far she has to run this time, or if she can ever come back at all.

Seeing her distress, Cassian gently but quickly grasps her arms. ‘Sorry, sorry. I just meant not now, Jyn. Not when you’re drunk.’

The rush of relief is so strong it takes her a moment to register the meaning of his words. Her jaw sets. ‘I am not drunk!’

He looks at her with such fondness as he says, ‘You’re not sober.’ Which, he has a point. There’s no hesitation in his tone, even though she can see just how badly he wants her. Still, she won’t press because she knows how important these moral boundaries are to him. His kind and gentle and _good_ soul, forced to operate in so many shades of grey, needs the relief of following its own instincts when he’s not fighting.

Jyn eases out of his arms and breathes deeply, trying to wind herself down. Cassian does the same. As soon as she stops feeling so turned on she could explode, she wraps herself around him again, pressing her lips to his chest.

He seems to notice the lights for the first time and smiles down at her. ‘Blessed lake indeed.’

She nods, ignoring the lingering frustration and focusing instead on the profound contentment that she hasn’t felt since before her mother died. Cassian strokes long gentle lines up and down her back and murmurs quiet things in Festian.

Slowly, their bodies grow heavy as sleep beckons. Both unwilling to try to find their way through the dark forest back to the ship, they find a lush patch of grass away from the many bright lights of the candles. Jyn notices Cassian shivering a little. Although it’s a relatively mild night, he does always run cool and his light pants can’t be doing much to stop the chill. Her clothes, still damp, are only making her colder so she strips them off, standing before him in nothing but her knife holster and relishing the mix of desire and reverence on his face. Using the dress as a pillow, she lies down and opens her arms for him to join her. They both moan at the shivery feeling of their bare chests touching for the first time but it’s a sweet, syrupy warmth rather than raging heat.

‘Warm enough?’

He nods against her chest, face unlined and utterly relaxed.

Jyn’s unprepared for the wave of satisfied protectiveness that hits her. It’s frightening, the lengths she would go to so that Cassian could feel like this. She strokes his hair and smiles when he nestles closer to her.

Sleep eases over her but she tries to keep her eyelids open to watch his face soften just that little bit more.

His sleep-soaked voice rumbles in both their chests as he says, ‘I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t want you.' He yawns a little. 'I want you all the time.’

She hums in agreement. ‘Me too.’

‘I want it to be so good for you. Tomorrow, I promise, I'll give you everything you need.’

Jyn groans. ‘Not helping.’ Still, she glows with the anticipation.

‘Sorry’ He’s so open, his face a perfect window into his mind.

More than anything, she wants him to stay that way for her. But what had she said when they first met? Trust goes both ways. She has to give him what she wants from him. Even if talking about her feelings goes against every instinct she has.

There are the three obvious words, felt clearly and strongly in her chest, just waiting to be voiced, but she’s not quite ready for those yet. Instead she settles on, ‘I do want you Cassian...but more than that, I just want you to be always this close to me.’

He kisses the skin over her heart and his smile is brighter than every fire lit tonight combined.


End file.
